Broken ClocksBroken Souls
by BrynnH87
Summary: Alalind didn't stop with a spell on Juliet. But a blutbad who can't remember he's Wieder, in close proximity to a Grimm he can't remember is bound to be more devastating than just not remembering said Grimm. Based on a idea from a story by mm coconut (with her consent of course).


A/N: I read a fantastic story a while back: "Even a Broken Clock", by mm_coconut at AO3. It was about Nick getting hit with a spell meant for Monroe (not a spoiler, she says that in her summary). It's not angst, but my angsty little heart went there anyway when I found out what the spell really was. If Monroe _had _been hit with it, instead of Nick, it could have been devastating. So, I just had to ask her if I could play in her sandbox. She said 'sure', so here's the story. The first scene is very similar (again, with her permission), but the rest of the story is quite different. Hers is a light-hearted romance (slash) and mine is friendship with angst, angst, and more angst (with a hopeful ending). I quite recommend you read hers too though, because it is _quite _good.

On another note: I don't have the foggiest idea how Monroe's house is laid out, so I've taken artistic license here. For my purposes, his workbench is right off the living room, just around the corner. Also, I have not been observant enough to know if Nick is right-handed or left, so I'm assuming right.

Yet another note: Set after Season 2 episode 12, but doesn't include anything past that.

Broken Clocks… Broken Souls

_The servant handed the girl the spindle _

_and she pricked herself with it and_

_with a sigh, dropped to the floor._

Monroe opened his door to get the newspaper and found a surprise sitting on his porch.

It was a clock. A beautiful clock…well, Monroe was sure it _would _have been beautiful in its hay day. It was about the size of a large hardcover book and about the same weight. The wood was warped with age and neglect and Monroe despaired for the mechanism inside. There was no note about who it belonged to or why they had left it on his porch. He looked around in the nearby bushes and around the porch to see if there were any clues, but he found none. He cradled the clock in the crook of his arm, shrugged his confusion, and went back inside.

He placed it carefully on the workbench and sat down to take a closer look. The wood was caved in on one side and had extensive water damage. The varnish was chipped away and several of the numbers had fallen off the face.

"This is awful," Monroe muttered, as he continued to run his hands lovingly over his injured patient, "Just awful."

The hour hand was cracked at the base, and came completely off when he moved it even slightly. He tended to the minute hand next. It was bent forward and Monroe knew it wouldn't be salvageable. He made a mental note of all the parts he would need as he tried to bend the minute hand back into something resembling its original position.

"What the shit?" He looked at the cut on his finger…made by the razor sharp edge of the minute hand, but didn't have time for much more than that before he hit the floor.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Nick knocked at Monroe's door, not quite used to living there yet, then chuckled at himself and used his key to go in.

"Monroe? Hey, I forgot something. Hank's in the car, waiting for me. Just going to get it and leave again" Nick expected to hear some smart aleck remark about being forgetful, or about interrupting a man at work, but there was no response at all. Curious, Nick called again as he rounded the corner of the living room still expecting to see Monroe at his workbench.

He found him, but not quite as he had expected, "Monroe!"

Nick rushed to his friend's side. The older man was unconscious, crumpled on the floor in front of the work bench.

"Monroe," Nick patted his cheek, "Come on, Monroe, wake up, buddy."

When Monroe didn't respond, Nick opened his phone and called Hank, "Hank, call an ambulance and get in here. Monroe's unconscious."

At that moment, the blutbad started to stir.

"Hey, buddy." Nick was still crouched by his friend's side, "There you go, wake up."

Monroe's eyes went from confused to glowing red in just an instant, and he started to growl.

"Monroe?" Nick started to back away, getting to his feet as fast as he could.

"You're a Grimm," The blutbad growled and his facial features shifted into the wolf.

"Monroe," Nick still backed away toward the door. "You know that. You know _me_!"

That was the last thing the detective could say before a fully transformed wolf pounced and started to tear flesh. Nick instinctively protected his throat but was no match for this wolf. He had his gun, but didn't want to use it on Monroe, and he'd have to uncover his throat to reach it, so he tried to defend himself as best he could and hoped Hank got in there quickly.

Nick heard the front door open, but didn't have time to register anything else since he fell under the weight of his attacker.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Monroe slowly came too on the floor beside his workbench, but had no memory of how he got there or how he had ended up on the floor. In fact, he had very little memory of anything. He knew this was his house, and he knew his name and the fact that he was a blutbad and a clockmaker but not much else. And, apparently, no time to figure any of it out because there was a Grimm in his house. Close! Much too close.

"You're a Grimm!" He managed to growl before shifting into the wolf. The Grimm said something, but Monroe was already in full wolf mode. How dare a Grimm come into his house. He launched at the man and tore at flesh as fast as he could, trying to get to the jugular. Of course, this was a Grimm, so he knew how to protect himself. It wouldn't keep the blutbad from doing the most damage he could manage.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hank waited in the car for Nick. They had been at the station when Nick realized he had left something at home. He wouldn't tell Hank what it was, but Hank's birthday was the next day and they were scheduled to be off, so he figured it was a present for him. Nick usually made sure he remembered the day with some token or another and it wasn't at all like him to forget anything he had intended to bring along, but this situation with Juliet really had the man rattled.

Of course, Hank was still a little rattled himself. He had, not too long ago, found out that all the nightmare creates in fairy tales were real, and that Nick was some kind of 'demon hunter' or something. Not only that, the detective was now living with a guy that could turn into 'the big bad wolf' at will. Hank thought he was taking all this pretty well – considering – but he was still a little freaked out by it.

Nick cut into Hank's musings when his cell phone rang. Monroe was unconscious? What could happen to knock out the big bad wolf. Hank got out of the car immediately and ran toward the house, gun drawn.

He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't Monroe, in full wolf form, actively ripping at Nick's flesh. Hank fired into the air, hoping that it would be enough to make the wolf stop. He didn't want to have to hurt Monroe. Nick wouldn't want that. But he couldn't let him to continue to hurt Nick.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Monroe ripped at the arms hiding his prize and tasted the warm blood in his mouth. It was enough to urge him to fight harder…fight longer…just a little while longer now. He could feel the Grimm weakening.

Just as the victim lost consciousness, Monroe heard a gunshot. He turned to face the new intruder…eager for more blood…but something happened. Whether it was the gunshot or the fact that the prey lost consciousness, he didn't know, but it was like splashing cold water on his face. All of a sudden, he felt fully awake. He remembered everything about himself…all those details he couldn't call to mind before. He remembered he was a self-imposed vegan. He remembered he didn't hunt people anymore…not even Grimms, and he remembered that the only Grimm in the area was….

Oh god, he had just attacked his best friend.

He was now in human form, still wearing his best friend's blood on his face and hands, staring at that friend's partner…who had a gun drawn. Monroe couldn't be bothered with that right now. He had to see about Nick.

"God, Nick," he fell to his side. Nick was totally unconscious. Monroe reached his hand tentatively toward Nick's neck. He wasn't really sure he wanted to check. He was so afraid of what he would find.

Hank saved him the problem.

"Get away from him," the detective pushed him hard enough to knock him onto the floor. "I think you've done enough here!"

Monroe didn't know what to say to that. Hank certainly had a good reason to want him away from his friend, but now that he remembered who Nick was, Monroe didn't want to leave his side.

"Hank, I…" Monroe started, but then didn't know what to say, so he thought of something he could do. "I'll call 911."

"Never mind," Hank rounded. "I already did. Nick asked me to call it…for you! Because he cared about _you! _I expected to find _you_ on the floor. That's what he told me. Then I come in here and you're chowing down on _my best friend!"_

There was no reason to argue with Hank when he was this upset. Monroe wasn't sure there would be any reason to argue with him later, either.

Monroe wasn't sure he blamed him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hank couldn't believe what he was seeing. Monroe was suddenly _concerned _about Nick? A second ago the blutbad was trying to rip out the man's throat. Hank wanted to feel bad about snapping at Monroe like that, but…he just didn't. He felt confused, yes. Angry, yes. But, he didn't feel bad for yelling at Monroe.

Maybe he would later. Maybe he would even apologize later. But right now, he needed to check on his partner.

He reached toward Nick's throat, noticing the blood there, and was terrified of what he might _not_ find. He released a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding when he felt a steady thump-thump beneath his fingers. It wasn't as strong as it should have been, and was too slow for Hank's liking, but it was there. That would have to do for now.

He was relieved to find that most of the blood on Nick's neck was actually from his arms, but, as he looked over the rest of Nick's body, he realized that all of the news wasn't quite as good. The man was bleeding profusely from the arms and hands so Hank instinctively checked the main arteries. His right arm was the most covered in blood, so he checked that first. His fears were confirmed. The major artery in his wrist was severed and his fingers were a bloody mess of ground meat. Hank pressed down firmly on Nick's arm, just above the gash and hoped that the ambulance was near.

But that wasn't all. The detective's back was bloodied from where the wolf's front claws had pawed at it. Hank remembered that the animal had been straddling one of Nick's legs, which meant that its back claws had come down between his legs…too close to the femoral artery for Hank not to check that too. So, he reached down with his one free hand. What he found was devastating. There was more blood gushing from Nick's thigh, through his ruined jeans. His other thigh was bleeding too, but not as bad, and Hank only hand two hands.

He suddenly saw a rolled towel in his peripheral vision. When he looked up to take it, and its twin, from Monroe, he caught sight of the blood around the blutbad's mouth and had to fight not to throw up.

"Oh, for god's sake, Monroe, go clean up before the ambulance gets here."

The other man looked dumbfounded. "I… thought… you'd want to… preserve the evidence …you know… for when you arrest me."

Hank shook his head. "Right now, I'd like nothing more than to just_ kill_ you…I'd _settle_ for arresting you, but no one is going to believe you did this. Your bite marks aren't going to match up with these." He nodded toward Nick's torn body. "No one is going to believe the whole Wesan shit…"

"I can show them," Monroe started, "then they'd have to…"

Hank dropped his head. "Just get cleaned up. Nick can decide what to do with you once he wakes up."

Monroe tried not to voice the thought, but somehow just couldn't keep it in. "What if he doesn't wake up?"

Hank just glared at the other man with an intimidating look that any blutbad would kill for, and Monroe decided it was best to just do what he was told…just this once.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Monroe was in a daze. His best friend lay dying on the floor, tended to by his partner, who made it very clear that the blutbad was not welcome anywhere close to Nick. After he handed the rolled towels to Hank, and had their very confusing conversation, he disappeared into the bathroom to scrub his friend's blood off his body.

He just couldn't figure this out. Why would he hurt Nick? What could have made him forget like that? He would have to try to figure it out, but for right now, he had to get this blood off. It felt like it was burning its way through his skin. It wasn't until he heard the sirens outside that he realized he was scrubbing the hide off his face and hands.

He went out to the living room just as the paramedics were taking Nick outside, and caught bits of phrases… "shock"… "blood loss"… "spinal damage"… "fractured bones" . He started to grab his coat to follow, but Hank growled at him…literally growled…and it was very clear he was unwanted. He fell to the floor, near where he had attacked the best friend he had ever had.

He sat there for a long time before he thought of calling Rosalee. Maybe the shop owner would know about something that could make him do this.

0o0o0o0o0

"I finally found it, Monroe." Rosalee was excited because it had taken over six hours, and was quite elusive, but she had finally figured it all out. But she was brought back to earth when she saw Monroe's face. It wasn't going to matter much to the blutbad _what_ caused his behavior until he knew his friend was safe…if even then. She could see that Monroe was beating himself up about this.

She knelt beside her friend. "Monroe, you couldn't help it. It was a spell. Kind of like the one Adalind used on Juliet, only it was meant to make _you_ forget Nick…and pretty much everything else, until…" She suddenly realized how the rest of that statement was going to make Monroe feel, so she stopped, and hoped that maybe he hadn't been paying attention.

"Until what?" Monroe asked, dashing Rosalee's hopes.

"I don't know why she'd be after you, but…." The shopkeeper started, "Oh wait, though. If she knows enough about you to know that it would hurt Nick if you forgot him, and she knows to make the potion for a blutbad, then she probably knows you're helping him with the whole Grimm thing, so she might …well, she _must_ … want you to suffer too, so..."

Rosalee knew she was rambling, and Monroe just looked at her, as if waiting for her to get to the point. "Monroe, the spell was to make you forget who Nick was to you, and to forget you're Wieder. All you would remember was that you were a blutbad and Nick was a Grimm. She hoped you'd do exactly what you did and attack the Grimm…because you thought he was a threat."

"How does that make _me_ suffer?"

"The spell was set to wear off as soon as the Grimm lost consciousness…which I'm sure _she _thought would only be when he was dead."

"And I'd have to live with killing my best friend." Monroe said, barely audible.

Rosalee put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Yeah Monroe. That's what the spell was supposed to do."

"Well," His head was still down and his words could barely be heard. "At least she didn't succeed on _that_ front…at least not yet."

"How about we go to the hospital and check on Nick…now that we know what the spell was?"

Monroe raised his head marginally, "Hank doesn't want me there… and I can't imagine Nick would either."

She put her had on his cheek and made him look at her. "It was a _spell_, Monroe. They'll understand!" When she saw his incredulous look, she continued. "At least _Nick _will understand. He's one of the most forgiving, most decent men I've ever met." She put her other hand on Monroe's other cheek. "He _will_ understand, Monroe. And he'll forgive you. I know he will."

"Maybe," the blutbad finally answered. "But I never will."

0o0o0o0o0o0

"No way in _hell_!" practically shouted. "You are _not _going anywhere _near_ him!"

"Yeah, I understand, Hank," Monroe dropped his head and started to walk away. "I had to ask."

Rosalee grabbed Monroe's arm while talking to the detective. "Hank, we _told_ you. Monroe couldn't help it! Any more than Juliet can help not remembering Nick."

"Well, I haven't seen Juliet try to chew Nick's _arms _off, yet. If she ever does, I won't let _her_ anywhere near him either!"

"Don't you think that should be Nick's decision?" Rosalee was standing her ground, but Monroe just wanted to get away.

"Well, Rosalee," Hank started, with just a little snottier tone than intended, "I'll ask him…_if_ he wakes up, now that he's had over a hundred stitches and almost 2 liters of blood transfused over the last many, many hours. Or maybe, I'll have to wait until all the surgeries are over…you know…the ones to piece his arm back together since your _friend_ here bit through the bone in several places."

Monroe physically flinched.

"That was uncalled for!" Rosalee very rarely got this upset, but she felt justified this time. "Monroe would _never _hurt Nick on purpose."

Hank had backed off a little. "Well, it really doesn't matter if he _meant_ to hurt him or not…he _did_ hurt him, Rosalee. Really badly."

She put her hand on Hank's shoulder. "I know he's your friend, and I know this whole situation is horrible. But, Monroe is no danger to Nick now, and it would really help if he could sit with him for just a second."

"Rosalee…."

"Please, Hank." She looked him in the eyes. "Just a minute."

"You know that look isn't fair, right?" Hank's lips showed just the beginning of a smile. "I have a really bad feeling about this, Rosalee. But, okay….just a minute. And I stay in the room the whole time."

Rosalee looked toward Monroe, to let him answer. "Yeah. That sounds great. Thanks Hank."

"Just don't make me regret it."

0o0o0o0o0o0

Monroe couldn't believe his eyes. His best friend lay in the hospital bed and he could barely separate him from the sheets…he was so white. And much too still. Nick always had such a quiet strength about him, but he seemed to be constantly moving. Now he didn't look strong, and he certainly wasn't moving. And it was all Monroe's fault.

He took in Nick's position. They had him lying on his right side, since his back was all torn up. Monroe didn't know how many stitches were in his friend's back, but he remembered seeing the gashes, so it had to be quite a few. His legs were separated with a pillow, and, even though they had them covered with the sheet, Monroe knew they each had to be sporting their own amount of stitches and bandages.

It was Nick's arms and hands that held Monroe's attention. Monroe remembered that Nick had put his right arm over his neck, wrist out unfortunately, and his left arm over that. Now, Monroe could see the damage he had caused. Nick's right arm was bandaged heavily and was peaking out from under a pillow that was supporting his other arm. It had been the right arm whose main artery had been severed and probably had sustained considerable damage to the fingers. Monroe couldn't really tell, due to the bandage that covered all the fingers and even the thumb.

But, it was his left arm that was the most severely damaged. That one was the one where the wolf had broken bone. It was immobilized with an external stabilizer since they couldn't cast it due to all the sutures that would need tending to, and was lying on top of the pillow in front of him.

The blutbad could feel his eyes tear up as he sat down in the hard chair beside the bed.

"Oh god. I am so sorry Nick." Monroe gently stroked the fingers of Nick's left hand…about the only skin accessible on his arms or hands…carefully avoiding the IV needle there. "Nick … god …please be okay Nick."

0o0o0o0o0o0

God. Everything hurt. For a second, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why?

He felt weak and lethargic and could barely open his eyes. But he heard someone calling his name, so he tried yet again. Finally, he felt them open just a slit.

And saw his worst nightmare.

Suddenly, he remembered why he hurt. He still didn't understand _why_ Monroe was attacking him, but he remembered that that was what was happening. He had to protect his neck, but god, he hurt all over already. He could barely move…but he had to.

He pulled away as best he could, jerking his arms up around his throat. He tried to roll away but there was something at his back that wouldn't let him go too far. His body exploded in pain. He felt like he couldn't get his breath, and then, all of a sudden, there were hands on him…too many hands. He had to get away. He could hear himself screaming but couldn't stop. It wasn't like him to scream when he should be fighting. Why wasn't he fighting?

He started to swing his arms at the creatures grabbing him and felt his left arm connect with something. God, the pain that caused…but he couldn't stop now. He tried to get up (why was he lying down? That was the worse position to be in) but couldn't seem to manage it. Suddenly, he felt himself losing consciousness. He had to fight harder…if he passed out, the creature would finish him off…he couldn't…

That was the last thought he had.

0o0o0o0o0o0

It was against his better judgment, but he allowed Monroe into Nick's room. Intellectually, he knew that if the blutbad had been under a spell, he wouldn't have been able to control his behavior. But, beyond the intellectual…he just didn't want to take the chance of Nick getting hurt any more. He was already so frail. He wasn't used to seeing his partner like this, and it scared him.

But, Rosalee had a point, he supposed, so he watched Monroe make his way slowly to Nick's bed, and thought he saw tears in the other man's eyes. The blutbad sat down in the chair beside the stricken man's bed and tried to find a place on his body that wasn't hurt so that he could touch him. He finally decided on stroking the man's fingers.

Hank felt like he was intruding when he heard Monroe start to apologize to Nick and to plead with him to be okay. He was just about to leave the room to give the two men a moment alone when he saw that Nick was actually struggling to open his eyes. He decided he had to stay. He had waited for so long for his partner to wake up.

But, his worse fears started to come true almost immediately. Nick seemed to be stuck in his last conscious memory, and seeing Monroe so close to him wasn't helping. He tried to pull away and cover his neck and was only succeeding in pulling out the IV and probably several stitches as well.

The heart monitor started to go nuts and nurses appeared en mass. Nick was trying to get off the bed but crashed against the bed railing. The nurses grabbed at him to keep him from hurting himself, and one was trying to inject something into the IV port. Between jarring his body and dealing with basically being penned down, Nick started screaming. Hank had never heard his partner scream like that before…and _never_ wanted to hear it again!

Somewhere among all this activity, Hank had made his way to Nick's bed and tried to calm him down. He reached out...at apparently the exact wrong time… and got beaned in the head with the external stabilizer for his effort.

Hank was glad when the sedative finally hit and Nick stopped fighting.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He was sitting beside Nick's bed and was so glad to see his friend start to open his eyes…until he realized that Nick was terrified of him. He instantly tried to pull away and Monroe could tell his friend was hurting himself, but having him close didn't seem to be helping at all, so he started to back away from the bed. He sidestepped several nurses as they rushed in the room, and noticed that Hank was drifting closer to Nick.

Monroe found himself in the hallway, walking increasingly faster toward the stairwell, before he even realized he was leaving the building. He heard Rosalee call after him, but he kept walking.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Where the hell is he?" Hank was beyond pissed. "He probably just set Nick's recovery back by weeks and he just disappears?"

"What else is he supposed to do?" Rosalee countered. "He knows you don't want him here, and I don't know exactly what happened in that room, but Monroe looked totally devastated when he left here. I'm not even sure he heard me calling him. Whatever's going on…it's _not his fault_!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Monroe found himself back at home without realizing how he got there. He started to go through the living room, to get a beer, but he saw the bloodstain on the floor and froze to the spot.

Rosalee found him in the living room about a half hour later, sitting on the couch in the dark. She flipped on the lights.

"Turn them off." Monroe mumbled.

"Why?"

"I don't want to see it." He answered, and didn't need to tell her what 'it' was. The blood had still not been cleaned up, and there was just so _much_ of it.

"Let's go to the kitchen then. I'll get you some…"

"I don't deserve _not _to see it."

The shopkeeper knelt beside her friend. "Monroe, you're not making a whole lot of sense, hun."

"Nothing about this is making a whole lot of sense."

Rosalee couldn't figure out what to say to that. It was true. She never could understand plots of vengeance and why Adalind would go after Nick this way, and involve Monroe like this was just beyond her. Yes, Nick took away her powers, but Monroe didn't really have anything to do with that…certainly nothing worth putting _this_ on him for the rest of his life. Given the state the blutbad was in right now, Rosalee was afraid that the only reason _he_ was still alive was because _Nick_still was. She didn't know what would happen to Monroe if that fact ever changed. She hoped that, despite Hank's histrionics, that Nick's condition was at least still stable.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Nick started to wake up again; this time with a little more clarity. He didn't see Monroe. He didn't feel like he was under attack. He _did_ still hurt all over.

Since he was allowing himself to wake a little more slowly this time, he was able to take in more information before he tried to move. Hank was asleep in a hard plastic chair by the bed and didn't look too comfortable at all.

"Hank?" Nick's voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't used it in a long time. He tried to clear his throat, and spoke again. "Hank."

His partner stirred.

"Nick," He sat forward and continued, "Good to see you, man. How are you feeling."

"Like I was eaten by the big bad wolf." Nick tried to use levity, but from the stricken look on Hank's face, the humor must have fallen flat.

"Yeah, well, that's pretty much what happened, I guess."

"Where's Monroe?" Nick suddenly thought that if what he remembered – what he had hoped was just a nightmare – had really happened, then Hank might very well have had to shoot Monroe. The detective didn't like the thought. Would Hank have shot just to wound? Would that have been enough to stop the wolf? Nick didn't know what was going on with Monroe, but he didn't want him hurt, so he asked again. "Is he okay? What happened to him to make him act like that? He must be feeling terrible. Where is he?"

"Seriously?" Hank was incredulous. "You've been unconscious for over twenty-four hours, not counting your little semi-awake freak out," Hank unconsciously rubbed the small cut above his eyebrow that had been made by the external stabilizer. " You've already had the first of many surgeries to pin your arm back together, and had over a hundred stitches in various gashes all over your body…not to mention that you're facing numerous reconstructive surgeries for the muscles in your left arm and both thighs, and you may or may not be able to use the fingers on your right hand ever again, and the first thing you ask is "How's _Monroe_"?"

Nick was overwhelmed. "Well, my _next_ question was going to be "how screwed am I?" but I guess you've already answered that one." Nick could already feel himself falling asleep again, but tried to rouse long enough to get an answer to his first question. "Where's Monroe, Hank? Please tell me you didn't kill him."

"It wasn't because I didn't want to," the detective admitted, "but, no. I didn't kill him."

"Then where is he?" Nick didn't stay awake long enough to hear the answer.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Nick's first question was telling. Hank realized that he had underestimated the friendship between his partner and the blutbad. It would crush Nick if he woke up again and Monroe still wasn't there. If Hank somehow how permanently scared the other man away from Nick's side, it would take a toll on both of them, and perhaps a toll on his own friendship with Nick.

If Nick could remember what happened, and still be concerned with Monroe's safety, maybe Hank could be concerned too. He decided he'd go somewhere he vowed never to step foot again. He was headed to Monroe's house.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Rosalee had stayed the night with Monroe. She never did get him to move from the couch, so she had cleaned up the blood as best she could, and covered him up when he finally fell asleep. She had curled up in the chair and waited for the inevitable nightmares. They came…all night. By about 4:00 AM, they both gave up on any hope of a night's sleep… 'good' or otherwise.

About three hours later, there was a knock on the door, and the visitor turned out to be the last person on Earth that Rosalee had expected.

"Rosalee," the detective started. "How's Monroe doing?"

"You care now?"

"Frankly," Hank answered, "Not really. But Nick is awake and is worried about him, so, in a way, I guess I do care about Monroe…but only because it'll kill Nick if his friend isn't there."

"At least you admit Monroe is still Nick's friend."

"I admit that _Nick_ thinks he is, and I'll tell you, I'll still be standing by. If I see so much as a _hint_ of the wolf, I'll shoot to kill. Is that clear?"

Somewhere during the conversation, Monroe had come up behind Rosalee. "I'll take it." The blutbad got his coat and headed toward his car.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

By the time Monroe got to the hospital, he had worked himself into a frenzy. What if Hank was wrong? What if Nick was just concerned about him because the detective was a decent person and hated to see anyone hurt. What if, just because Nick asked about his whereabouts, he didn't necessarily want him _there_? What if Nick never wanted to see Monroe again? What if…

"You're thinking too loud," Rosalee jostled Monroe's elbow as they neared Nick's room. "He wants to see you. If he hasn't completely forgiven you already, he will. He _wants_ to."

"He was _terrified_ of me!"

"He had just woken up. He was still in the moment. Of course he was terrified." Rosalee started, "But Hank says he's not now."

Monroe looked unsure, so the shopkeeper continued. "Let's just go in and see, huh?"

Hank stayed by the door and let the others go into his partner's room alone…albeit still under his watchful eye.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Nick appeared to be sleeping when the two walked into the room. Monroe was just about to turn around and leave when the man on the bed opened his eyes.

"Monroe!" Nick's voice was still a little hoarse but he sounded much stronger than Hank had described. "Are you leaving?"

"Uh…" Monroe started nervously. "Uh…yeah. I mean. I wasn't going to. I mean…I wanted to talk to you…but you were sleeping…so…"

Nick grinned a little. "Come sit down, Monroe."

The blutbad moved slowly toward the bed, still not sure about this. Rosalee was still standing by the door, and motioned him to go on. "I'll leave you two alone." She said as she started to leave.

"NO!" Monroe practically shouted. "I mean…uh…no, don't do that." He looked at Nick, who was smiling now. "She doesn't have to, right? I mean…tell her Nick. She can stay, right?"

Nick chuckled…actually chuckled. "Of course she can stay. Rosalee is always welcome…any time." Then he turned serious. "But so are you, Monroe. Anytime. With or without Rosalee." He tried to hold out his left hand, but it hurt so much, he had to wince, and immediately regretted it when he saw Monroe wince right along with him. "Monroe, seriously. Come sit down."

The blutbad slowly complied, but Rosalee stayed by the door, neither leaving or committing to staying.

"Monroe, you act like you're going to a firing squad." Nick chuckled again. "Come on, I won't bite." He regretted it before he even finished saying it…even before he saw Monroe's face go deathly white. "God, Monroe…I didn't mean it like that." He looked to Rosalee for help.

She didn't know how to help…either of them. But, she did decide to stay for a while. She pulled another chair to the bed beside Monroe's.

Nick gave up trying to comfort Monroe for now, and tried a different line of questioning. He turned to Rosalee. "Do we know what caused this?" But before she could answer, he noticed Monroe's face. He was still blaming himself. Nick looked directly at Monroe, but still addressed Rosalee. "Because I _know _Monroe would _never_ hurt me unless something was desperately wrong."

Monroe finally met Nick's eyes. "You do?"

"Of _course_ I do." Nick said incredulously. "Don't _you_?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Monroe started. "Oh god Nick…I'm _so_ sorry!"

Nick again tried to reach out, but stopped when the wave of pain hit. But, this time, Monroe met him halfway and gently grasped his fingers. "I know you are, Monroe." Nick almost whispered. "I know you are."

After a moment, Nick turned to Rosalee. "Do we know what happened?"

The shopkeeper shocked herself back to the present – so caught up was she in the unspoken dialogue between the detective and the blutbad. "Yes, actually, we do." Then she launched into the explanation of what they believed Adalind had done and what the spell was supposed to do.

Monroe practically held his breath while he watched Nick, but Nick seemed relieved.

"See?" The detective looked at Monroe. "I _knew_ you couldn't hurt me."

The smile on Nick's face looked so out of place on the broken body in the hospital bed that Monroe summoned up just the tiniest attempt at a smile in return. Rosalee took that opportunity to excuse herself from the room. The two men remaining in the room distantly heard her talk to Hank and their voices started to get farther away.

Then reality hit Monroe again, "But I _did_ hurt you Nick. I damn near _killed_ you! If Hank hadn't gotten there so quickly…if he hadn't slowed the bleeding…if you hadn't already gotten him to call an ambulance…" A tear that had been threatening to come for a long time made its way down Monroe's cheek. "Nick, you almost died! You might not be able to use your arms or hands again. Your _right_ hand, Nick. The fingers….I almost…oh god…two of them were barely attached…your _shooting_ hand Nick…I…"

Nick had seen Monroe cry before…when he lost Angelina…but he'd never seen him like this. He was nearly hysterical. He kept apologizing and was practically sobbing.

Nick tried to sit up, to get closer to Monroe, to reach out, but he couldn't do any of those things. Any movement at all shot pain throughout his body…even with all the Morphine they had him on. "Monroe, stop!"

The blutbad gasped and looked up. He was trying desperately to calm himself.

Once Nick saw that Monroe was trying to regain composure, he continued in a quieter voice. "Monroe, please stop. Stop beating yourself up for something that wasn't your fault. This is Adalind's fault. She used you to hurt to me, just like she used Juliet. Maybe it's my fault actually. I put both of you in the line of fire by confronting Adalind."

"Nick…" Monroe didn't know what to say…how to handle all this…but he sure didn't want Nick blaming himself.

"How about we just both decide to blame only Adalind, okay?" The detective stated. Monroe still looked shaken so Nick continued. "We'll get through this, okay?"

"Nick…" Monroe started again. "You're arms…your hand…god, even your legs…how can we possibly…"

"We just will, okay?" Nick changed tactics. "Or are you going to make me deal with this by myself? Are you going to kick me out now, because you can't handle this? You're going to push me away because you're too emotionally torn up to stick by me when I really need you?"

"No!" Monroe was shocked. "No, Nick. God, no. I'll be right here every step of the way…I'll do _anything _to make this right. I just don't see how you could _want_ me to be."

"Well, I do, okay?" Nick lowered his voice again. "I want you here. I need you Monroe. I can't do this alone. And I live at your place. Where am I supposed to go if I can't stay there. Juliet doesn't want me around when I'm able-bodied…she sure wouldn't want me around this way. You're all I've got. I want you around, okay?"

"I'll be around…as long as you want me. And you live at _our _house…not just mine." Monroe rubbed Nick's fingers. "But, I'm not all you have. Hank has been stomping around here like a mama bear, and Rosalee worked her tail off trying to figure out what was going on. And I don't think it's really that Juliet doesn't want you around, just not in the same way…I could be wrong about that one…but I'm not about the other two. We'll all be here for you, okay? I can't believe you still trust me…but I won't let you down."

It was Nick's turn to lose a fight with tears as several rolled down his face. "Thanks Monroe, but I always knew I could trust you. Even when…I knew it wasn't you. I _do_ trust you, Monroe."

They sat there in silence for a long time, Monroe holding Nick's fingers. It was going to be such a long road back, and Nick was right, he was going to need all his friends here for him. But, Monroe meant what he said. He'd be here every step of the way. As long as the blutbad knew that Nick still trusted him…that he still _wanted _him there, he would be glued to his side. Nick was right. As long as they had each other, they would _both_ get through this.

End


End file.
